


Waking from a Bad Dream

by xtenn



Series: The Viscount Who Sure As Hell Didn't Deserve Kate [11]
Category: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: Angst, Breakfast, Brothers, Canon Rewrite, Dancing, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Marriage, Mother-Son Relationship, Sisters, Slow Burn, There's A Tag For That
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:15:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29379789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xtenn/pseuds/xtenn
Summary: Another chapter in this series that really should have been a single work, as I continue to work out what would happen if Anthony never kissed Kate and then they were never forced to marry ...All credit to Ms Quinn for her characters and stories.
Relationships: Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sheffield
Series: The Viscount Who Sure As Hell Didn't Deserve Kate [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2129715
Comments: 75
Kudos: 196





	1. Chapter 1

Violet smiled in genuine pleasure at the bunch of tulips from Aubrey Hall. Her favourite. An anniversary tradition, on the day of her husband's death. 

"You are so much like your father, Anthony."

"I would be pleased to be half the man he was," came the gruff reply. 

Violet laughed. "Well, you certainly have his pride. And his stubbornness." 

Violet paused for a moment, considering her son and the rather dramatic changes she had seen in him over the last month. Never particularly light-hearted, he had become positively taciturn. She knew he had only ever really attended society events under duress - now he avoided all of them. Always responsible, he was now driven - a relentless energy that was burning him to exhaustion. And despite her quiet enquiries, there were no rumours regarding any women in his life. Not one! _Be careful what you wish for_ , she thought glumly.

"I have no regrets, Anthony," she added, wondering how to start the conversation that would let her be privy to his concerns.

"What do you mean, Mother?"

"I mean ... well, you know I miss your father every day. But had I known he would be taken so soon, I still would have married him. And I think he still would have married me."

At this Anthony could only kiss her cheek, and take his leave. 

Perhaps it was time to get back out into the world. Maybe it was also time to deliver that painting. They were friends of a sort, after all - weren't they?

\----

Heavy cream paper. That bold script, with her name. Tied to a brown paper package. A painting?

The package in the hallway of the Sheffield's house could not be hidden and would somehow need to be explained, but Kate slipped the note behind her back before Edwina or Mary could see it. Edwina would only see romance, and Mary would only see trouble - and Kate knew she needed to read this alone.

_I cannot regret my time with you at Aubrey Hall. But if I caused you distress or offended you, please know that I am truly sorry._

_I remain,_

_Your Anthony_


	2. Anthony and Kate

Kate felt his presence, before she saw him. A heat on the back of her neck, a flush in her cheeks. One too many tall figures with familiar faces and dark curly hair in the ballroom - Benedict and Colin, and then another. 

Anthony. 

He was looking from face to face, not pausing to talk to anyone, searching. When his eyes locked with hers, she felt his exhale from across the room - she believed she saw the lines of worry on his forehead smooth - and his eyes glinted, his lips turning in what on any other man would be considered a nervous smile. 

But surely, Lord Bridgerton was never nervous. Not for me, she thought. 

\---

Benedict approached him first, tapping him on the lapel a touch too hard. "You're too late for a dance with her, you know. Her card is full."

Anthony grunted in annoyance. 

"I have the waltz, at least," Benedict continued. 

"And I believe you need to step out on urgent business, don't you, brother?" Anthony ordered, his eyes stern. 

"It seems I do, so if you would be so good as to make my apologies?" Benedict smirked, before adding softly. "One last thing, Anthony - the entire family has spent a month trying to fix your mistakes. Mrs Sheffield still hates you, but we like Kate. A lot. So for God's sake - _don't fuck it up_."

Anthony glared, but nodded just slightly. 

\--- 

So when it was time for the waltz, Kate found the eldest Bridgerton brother - and not the second, as agreed - requesting her hand. Before Mrs Sheffield could voice her objection or Kate could quite get over her surprise, she was being pulled onto the floor. A warm glow rose in Kate's chest, a fluttering in her heart. Although normally Kate struggled to relinquish the lead, this evening, with Anthony holding her in his arms, it simply made sense for him to move her where he wanted to go. To relax into his hold, to let himself be held and turned. 

"Thank you," Kate blurted out, as her rather awkward first words. "For the painting. And the note."

"Least I could do," Anthony gruffly replied, refusing to meet her eyes. She was pressed against his body, his hand on her lower back, and he couldn't trust himself to look at her face. She fit perfectly. Soap and lilies. Her glove in his hand, containing those fingers that she had wound in his hair and trailed down his chest. "And we are friends, are we not?"

"Are we, Lord Bridgerton?"

"I thought it was Anthony, so perhaps _not_ \- and friends do not renege on a deal, after all," Anthony said, wondering again why his charm with women never seemed to work with Kate, when more than ever he wanted to be persuasive. What in Heaven had he done wrong? "And I thought we had a deal, Miss Sheffield."

"Indeed - a deal not to trap each other into an undesired marriage," Kate snapped quietly, examining his face crossly. He still wouldn't meet her eyes - was Anthony not grateful? This conversation was veering towards yet another argument, in contrast to the swelling music and their embrace in the waltz' familiar steps.

"I believe I showed you exactly how much I desired you," came Anthony's heated response, hissed so close into her ear that Kate almost felt his lips brush her lobe. How could the memory of their meeting in the library not be vivid in her mind now? Kate swallowed nervously, and her palms sweated. Anthony sensed this, and reveled in it - apparently he hadn't lost his touch, after all.

"Am I making you blush, Miss Sheffield?" he purred. "Will Whistledown write in her next column that the rakish Lord Bridgerton danced only one dance at the ball, the waltz, with Miss Kate Sheffield and he whispered such words into her ear as to make that maiden ..."

"Do you want me to step on your feet, my lord?"

Anthony roared with laughter, the sultry mood broken, and finally managed to look at her, properly. "I am surprised - pleasantly - that you haven't done so yet."

"I am trying to be nice," Kate laughed back. "Honestly, if I didn't know your reputation, I would believe that you wanted this - " Kate dropped her voice to the lowest possible whisper, excruciatingly aware of the many eyes on the dancing couples, " _marriage_ to happen."

Anthony met her eyes, watched her bite her lip. God I do, he thought bitterly. _I do_. I wouldn't have chosen you - I want you too desperately, and I am terrified of loving you - but you invade every dream, every waking moment. I cannot get you out of my mind. _I need to kiss you, Kate._

"And you do not, not even just a bit? What did I do, to displease you, Kate?" Anthony whispered, leaning in again to her ear, this time gently touching that soft flesh with his lips as he spoke, in a brief kiss. It was all he dared to do but every particle of his body and soul screamed for more. 

"Nothing, and I appreciated your offer, I did," Kate replied hastily, trying to keep a level head while gooseflesh crawled over her skin and her heart raced. _Did he just kiss her ear?_ "But..."

"But you then went and denied it,' finished Anthony flatly, snapping his teeth. "You left."

"Please my lord, let me explain," Kate rushed out, wishing she could step back and out of his arms, to clear her head. Kate understood suddenly that she had hurt him, bruised his fragile male ego. "I thought, rake though you no doubt are, even you deserved a chance to marry someone you actually love - which is obviously not me, as you made so abundantly clear - and I did not want to be second to whoever it was Lady Whistledown was writing about for the rest of my life." 

Anthony was stunned speechless. This was simply not true. How could she believe that? 

"So, I thought it best you were not trapped with me," Kate continued, firmly, before adding in a softer voice. "But you did not offend - do not feel that I regret my time with you at Aubrey Hall either, Anthony." 

But the dance was coming to a close, and again they were surrounded by a crush of people, and he couldn't think of what else to say - the words that might keep her in his arms or by his side were stuck in his throat - he knew that he certainly could not kiss her, not properly, but the temptation was overwhelming - already she was pulling away, out of his arms, she was letting go of his hand, turning away from him - and Mrs Sheffield was approaching, with pursed lips and terrified eyes, reaching to take his Kate. _Think, Anthony! Say something!_

"There was only ever you, Kate," he managed in a rush. "There's no one else."

And she was gone.

\---

Kate lay awake and stared at the canopy, and thought of Edwina's words. _Why couldn't it have been you, Kate? Why can't you let good things happen to you?_

The notes - _your Anthony_.

His kiss, in the library - _I desire you. I can't sleep at night for wanting you_.

Tonight, seeking her face in the crowd - that look of relief, the nervous smile.

Their waltz, his final words - _Only ever you, Kate. There's no one else._

Dare she believe it? He said she couldn't expect love, but what was this? And would it be enough? Or was it all just too late?

The rain hit her windows, and Kate shivered in anticipation for the storm to come.


	3. Penelope

The whispers spread throughout the ballroom that Lord Bridgerton had reappeared at last, and Penelope instantly paid attention to Kate.

Automatically her mind began drafting her column, the journalist in her thrilled at the prospect of a tale to tell while her sensible heart admonished herself for this insatiable desire for gossip. As much secret pride that Penelope felt about her little news sheet, she tried not to forget how much damage she could do - indeed, how much damage she may have already done. She had chosen for Whistledown to deliberately ignore Kate over the last month, to let the memory of the bee sting fade after the disaster that was her taunts of Lord Bridgerton - but it pained her greatly now to see that Kate, coming to the end of the season, was virtually invisible and no closer to finding a match. A heavy cost indeed. 

That said, Pen saw Anthony's eyes seek out Kate - before he turned to anyone else in the room, he looked for Kate.

She saw his uncertain smile, and Kate's answering blush.

She saw the way their eyes lit up. 

She saw Anthony take Kate's hand for the waltz - but wasn't this meant to be Benedict's dance?

Then she saw the way Kate fit against the Viscount, how she moved with him.

Their animated faces, their whispers, the way they laughed together. 

_What! Did he just kiss her ear?_

She saw Kate talking, a nervousness in her eyes. A furrow in Anthony's brow.

How close he stood, when the dance was over, as he led her back - holding on to her hand for longer than could possibly be necessary. 

She saw Anthony's lips forming words, and Kate's eyes opening in shock. _What did he say?_

And she saw Mrs Sheffield, in anger, pulling Kate away and taking her home.

Well! What in Heaven should she write in her next column?!


	4. Anthony

Anthony hadn’t wanted to love her. Hell, he hadn’t wanted to love anyone. It was the one thing—the only thing—that could make him fear his own mortality. He had even told her that she could not expect love. 

Seeing Kate this evening - holding her in his arms - he wanted her with a ferocity that frightened him. Understanding now why she had denied him had made him hope that perhaps she cared for him, and this knowledge burned painfully in his chest. The ball had held no lustre after she left, and instead he had made his way to his study in Bridgerton House where memories of her continued to taunt him. Finding her under the desk, her angry, mocking words, the scorn in her eyes as she curtsied. _I should have let us get caught_ , he thought ruefully and dishonourably. _Then you would already be mine - you would be my miserable rich VIscountess._

Even now, could he propose, and promise to love and protect her? And would she even accept - how to convince her, thoroughly and irrevocably, that there was no-one else? How could he do that, all the while knowing he would leave her? He certainly couldn’t tell her of his odd convictions - his belief that he would die within the next decade, unable to surpass his father in anything. Aside from the fact that she’d probably think he was crazy, all it would do was subject her to the same pain and fear that wracked him. Better to let her live in blissful ignorance. Or was it even better if she didn’t love him at all - if he disappeared out of her life, and never pursued her further? Did he have the strength to do that?

Anthony made his decision when the first bolt of lightning lit the sky. 

He imagined Kate, only a few streets away. The whimpers that would escape her lips, the drawn lines of her face - her inexplicable fear that she dared not disclose to her family. Was she alone? Would Edwina or Mary come to her aid? Who would be there, to stroke her hair and call her name - to talk to her softly, to tell her she was safe? His words of comfort in Aubrey Hall, those weeks ago - dare he hope that they could possibly be enough to sustain her, through this most violent of storms? 

He cursed the twists of fate that meant he could not be with her now. He should already be married to her. He should be with her, tonight and all nights. 

He found the box of betrothal rings, and the choice was simple. Simple gold, with a single diamond. Nothing heavy or fussy. It would suit her. 

He twirled it between his fingers as the storm raged, staying awake at his desk for the entire night. Hoping that when he offered, she would accept.

\---

The Sheffields were not home the next morning, when he called. 

Anthony knew they were there. They simply were not home to him.

\---

A note came, later that day - polite regrets, for the usual card game with Eloise and Penelope.

Eloise slammed it onto the desk in his study in fury. "What did you do?" she raged. " _You ruin everything_. They are my friends." 

Colin held her back as she screamed at her eldest brother, his eyes hard in judgement. Penelope stood in the hallway, twisting her handkerchief between her fingers with worry. 

And what could he possibly say?

\---

Once Eloise was out of his office, Colin returned with Benedict.

“Whatever you did, apologize for it. I know you, and I’m getting to know Kate, and knowing what I know—” 

“And what would you know,” Anthony grumbled. 

“I think,” Benedict said, leaning against the doorframe, “that he’s telling you you’re an ass.” 

“Just so!” Colin exclaimed. 

Anthony just shook his head wearily. “It’s more complicated than you think.” 

“It always is,” Benedict said, with sincerity so false it almost managed to sound sincere. 

“I have apologised, and I have tried to call on her, but she won't see me,” Anthony snapped, “so do not presume to offer me advice. Just ... shut up.” 

Colin looked at Benedict. “Think he’s angry?” 

Benedict quirked a brow. “That or drunk.” 

Colin shook his head. “No, not drunk. Not yet today, at least. But definitely hungover.” 

“Which would explain,” Benedict said with a philosophical nod, “why he’s so angry.” 

Anthony spread one hand over his face and pressed hard against his temples with his thumb and middle finger. He had been awake all night, sitting at this damn desk, drinking his whiskey, twirling that ring between his fingers. “God above,” he muttered. “What would it take to get you two to leave me alone?” 

“Go home, Anthony,” Benedict said, stepping into the room, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Get some sleep, change your clothes. And then call on her again tomorrow."

“Yes,” Colin agreed. “And next time you talk to her, just tell her that you love her. What could be more simple?” 

Anthony groaned into his hands. _Next time._ Would there even be a next time?

\---

Violet came in later, to ask if he was going home. Or if he was going to stay the night - again - perhaps he would rather sleep in a bed than at his desk? That sadness in her eyes again, her failures as a mother evidenced by her son's misery.

He tipped the whiskey around his glass, eyeing his mother speculatively. How to explain the ache in his chest, at the thought of being in a bed without Kate in it? The ceaseless dreams that woke him up, hard and frustrated? Or the guilt that did not stop him from coming into his hand, as often as he could, as often as schoolboy - dishonouring her virtue with his salacious thoughts - yet still leaving him unsatisfied?

"I need a favour," he asked softly. "I can't fix this alone."

And so Violet wrote to Mrs Sheffield, asking to see her the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't help myself. More misery for Anthony. Sorry / not sorry.
> 
> A jumble of words from Ms Quinn, reworked for this AU.


	5. The Sheffield Ladies

Edwina hummed to herself as she spread marmalade on her toast at breakfast, shifting back and forth in her seat in a little dance.

"Anyone would think something exciting is happening today," Kate dryly commented, taking a seat across from her sister and knowing exactly what had her in such a state.

"Why, yes, now that you mention it, Kate, something exciting is happening," Edwina grinned, her eyes lighting up, knowing full well that this particular event had been discussed without pause the entirety of the morning so far. "Mr Bagwell is coming today!" she sang.

"Oh? Who? Mr Bagwell? I have never heard that name before - tell me who he is again?" Kate responded with heavy sarcasm, reaching for the tea.

Edwina ignored her elder sister. "He sent a note too - he is borrowing his friend's open carriage and will take us out to the park before lunch."

"Fancy that, the incomparable of the season receiving a gentleman caller and going for a carriage ride."

"Oh hush, Kate," Mary admonished with a smile, coming into the breakfast parlour with the latest Whistledown column. "Edwina, we are all thrilled to be meeting your Mr Bagwell today."

Kate, although secretly very excited herself to meet this scholar, rolled her eyes. Mr Bagwell this, Mr Bagwell that, Mr Bagwell recommended this book, and Mr Bagwell mentioned in his letter, and Mr Bagwell ... Younger sisters in love were infuriating.

"Hand it over, Mother - what does Whistledown have to say today?" Edwina demanded. Mary grimaced, and held the news sheet back, inadvertently shooting a quick glance at Kate.

Kate noticed, and put down her tea. "...me? Surely not." She never mentions me, thought Kate. Never!

Edwina grabbed the paper, her eyes moving quickly down the page, letting out a little gasp of delight. "Oh Kate! Lord Bridgerton danced only with you at the ball," she gushed. "The highlight of the evening was watching such a delightful pair ..."

Mary's frown deepened. "After everything you went through the other night with the storm and yesterday ... well, with our talk of your mother, Kate ... the last thing you need is to be the subject of vicious gossip due to that man ..."

Kate struggled to think of the words to reassure Mary and Edwina, and Mary wrinkled her forehead with worry, fidgeting needlessly with her breakfast. Mary was not Kate's mother, but she felt strongly that it was her role to protect her, to ensure she made a good match. When Kate had woken her up, only two nights previously, with tears on her cheeks and asking softly to be held through the storm - as the rain lashed the windows and the lightning illuminated the city and the thunder shook the walls - to discover only now that Kate for all these years had hidden her terror of storms - it had been a devastating blow. This was the sort of thing a mother should sense, and Mary had been entirely unaware. Mary had stayed awake with Kate through it all, holding on to her, and talking, and wiping away her tears, but she had made a vow to be a good mother to Kate, to love and cherish her as if she was of her own flesh. Now, she could only feel as if she had failed - leaving her brave girl, her darling Kate, alone with her fears and nightmares for so many years, and that she was on the cusp of another failure, if Kate were to be unhappily married.

"In all seriousness, Kate," Edwina said, pausing in her happy little dance to fix her sister with a concerned look. "Are you sure you are quite up to entertaining guests today?"

Kate paused, trying to think of how to respond to her family, her mind fluttering with the mention of her name in Whistledown (Next to Anthony's! He danced with no one else!) - contrasting sharply with memories of the day prior, where Mary's tale of her mother's death had shaken her very sense of self. Divulging her fear to Mary had taken all her courage, but she could not regret it. Yesterday had been a heavy day of reflection, best spent in the company of just the three Sheffield ladies, but the storm had now well and truly passed. Today meant so much to Edwina - how could she say no?

"Yes," she finally responded. "I am. And honestly, I think ... well, I think that the next time it storms, I'm going to be just fine."

"Really?" asked Mary, taking Kate's hand.

"I feel the strangest sense of optimism," Kate added. Edwina glowed at her, sharing the sentiment precisely - although for entirely different reasons. "So thank you, Mary. For telling me."

Mary blinked away tears, trying to express the pride and love she felt for Kate in a glance. "If that's the case," Mary added nervously, "if you are sure ... Lady Bridgerton would like to see me this morning - would you girls mind if I missed the carriage ride, and joined you later for lunch?"

"Not at all," Edwina confirmed, her eyes alight with the confidence of one who knows what her future holds and it is all so very wonderful. The thought of an open carriage ride with her lovely Mr Bagwell and her darling sister, unencumbered by the older generation, was bliss - and after lunch, she thought, he will propose, and I will accept, and he will kiss me again, and we will live happily ever after.

"Please apologise for our absence yesterday, too," Kate said, feeling a slight discomfort that they had cancelled on Eloise and Penelope, who had been faithful friends. It irritated her that she worried what Anthony might have thought, but given that he had never once been at Bridgerton House during their card afternoons, she comforted herself with the fact that he would most likely never even know.

"It's settled then," Mary said firmly. "It will be lovely to go shopping with Violet, and the perfect opportunity to ask her to tell her son to keep his hands away from my girls."

"His hands?" smirked Edwina, still reading the newssheet. "Should we not be more concerned with his li ..."

Kate kicked her sister under the chair, hard, her eyes indicating clearly that Edwina was as good as dead if she finished that sentence.

Mary huffed indignantly, knowing exactly what Edwina was going to say. "The way he held you at the ball was obscene, Kate, and to have it mentioned in Whistledown ..." Kate strongly disagreed, but kept silent. It was a waltz! They could hardly have danced a foot apart. "But the less said about it, the better, as far as I'm concerned. I am simply furious he had the audacity to call here yesterday."

"What?" Kate leapt to her feet, her tea cup clattering into the saucer. "When were you going to tell me that?"

"I'm sorry, darling - we agreed on no visitors or outings yesterday, after the storm and, well, everything. And I wasn't aware that you would have cared."

"Oh she cares," Edwina laughed in a sing-song voice, greatly enjoying this. "Because I think our Kate might just be ..."

"Oh just stop it, Ed," Kate snapped, wishing she was close enough to give her another kick, before turning to Mary. "That is twice in one day we have shunned their family, Mary! You will explain, won't you? And ask Lady Bridgerton to tell him to call again, Mary, won't you?"

Mary frowned, disliking this plan immensely. "Oh Kate, I don't know ... do not be blinded by his wealth, my darling girl."

"Or his title, or his beautiful home at Aubrey Hall, or his handsome face, or his handsome figure, or his charm," Edwina mocked, while Kate looked around for something to throw at her younger sister. "Or his lovely family, who have become such good friends ... and did I mention his wealth ..."

"Yes, Edwina, we quite understand," Mary stated with finality. "I need to think about this, Kate. Such a man would not be my choice for you, and I cannot allow it in good conscience."

You're wrong about him, Kate wanted to scream. You're wrong! But it would not be right or fair to either Mary or Edwina to start an argument, not today, so Kate merely pursed her lips and sat back down to finish her breakfast.

I will tell our butler where we are headed in the carriage today, she thought. Just in case. There is no harm in that.

\---

When Edwina had said Mr Bagwell was a scholar, Kate had made certain assumptions. Bookish. Unfashionable. Dusty. Short. Perhaps a little tubby. An eye glass, naturally.

She certainly had not expected this tall physical presence, with muscular shoulders and a light brown tan, like the men who worked on the docks by the river. Neither had she expected the blond hair, bleached almost white, that fell across his face, or his startingly blue eyes, or the wide, white grin he gave as soon as he saw Edwina.

"Are you ready, ladies?" he asked with a laugh, holding out a hand to help them into the carriage. "Now other than the drive over here, I've never driven this carriage before, because it is not mine, but ..."

Newton barked furiously, straining at his leash, and Kate struggled to hold on to him as she took her seat.

"I'm sure it will be quite wonderful" breathed Edwina, holding on to her bonnet. "Let's go!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Sometimes a girl needs space to sort out lifelong trauma, you know?
> 
> 2\. About the angst level. You've read the books, right? 
> 
> 3\. Edwina is 17. As lovely as she is ... she's 17. 
> 
> Thank you for the comments and kudos!

**Author's Note:**

> Does this count as a slow burn yet?


End file.
